


A Flicker in the Dark

by infinitemonkeyswriting



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drugs, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitemonkeyswriting/pseuds/infinitemonkeyswriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's childhood home burns down and when old memories resurface he runs away, back to drugs and away from John. He goes to the only person he thinks will let him get away with anything, but Molly Hooper has changed. First fanfic. Drug use and eventually Sherlolly so rated M.</p><p>This work is now on an indefinite hiatus. I might get back to it one day and rewrite a few parts and continue it though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Running

**Author's Note:**

> Like I added in the description, this work is on an indefinite hiatus (though after that kiss in S3 I might get back soon while we wait for S4). For those of you looking for smut, rest assured, there is, I didn't stop that early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is my first fic, be nice. If people like it I'll continue it. It was a weird plot bunny that wouldn't go away. I don't think it will make much sense. It's sort of pre-reichenbach, but it could be post, but then John would suspect Molly more.
> 
> As their doesn't seem to be almost any record of Sherlock's family history in either the books or the series apart from a few little things which I expanded on, I made it up.
> 
> Concerning the drugs. I did some research but not much. Sherlock's preferred drug seems to be cocaine in the books, possibly because it allows you to stay up all night and think quickly, but this drug is also said to make people social and sexually aroused, which will come into play (eventual Sherlolly)... things he doesn't like. He also uses morphine in the books I believe but I made him use heroin because it's more potent. Also I hear it's more of a downer drug compared to cocaine, relaxes people and numbs them which I thought was more appropriate. They can also be taken together to counteract each other's negative affects. Just know I probably took some liberty with portraying the drug use because I was too lazy to research.

Sherlock is gone.

At first John doesn't give it a second though, but then an hour passes, than two, than the night, than the next day.

John texts him but as usual bu he doesn't reply. He texts Molly and asks her if she's seen him at the morgue but she tells him he hasn't dropped by. He texts Lestrade but he says he didn't give him a case. On the third day he texts Mycroft as a last resort.

**He didn't tell you? -MH**

John breathes a sigh of relief. Even if something is wrong at least Mycroft seems to know something about Sherlock's whereabouts.

**Tell me what? -JW**

This time the phone doesn't ding once but instead rings.

_"John, he isn't with you?"_

"No, haven't seen him for three days. What happened?"

_"There was a fire in our old childhood home. He came by to see the wreckage and then he just left. You have to find him John."_

"But he could be anywhere."

_"I'll get my people on it, but John..."_

"Yes, I'll try."

John hung up. _I'll try. I'll try._ How could he possibly try if he didn't even know where to begin?

* * *

A street light flickered out of existence a street away from Molly's flat.

Sherlock stared.

He wanted to flicker out of existence. In fact, that was exactly what he was trying to do when he just ran off from the old burnt house. But he would never flicker out like the street light, not exactly. Just like he'd dressed up as a pirate but had never really been one.

Sherlock shook his head. He didn't want to think about that. About the old sailboat model that now lay burnt to a crisp, and the pirate hat, equally singed.

He needed another hit, just one more to numb it all away, to flicker off if only for another moment.

He had everything he needed in his pockets, he just needed somewhere, somewhere safe, somewhere to prepare it properly, and most importantly someone he could trust.

Molly.

Sherlock made his down the street, limping slightly as he went, and knocked on her door. No response. He shivered. It was cold. He was tired and dirty from roaming the streets for three days. There was a bruise on his left eye were he'd gotten into a fight and his ribs ached with every breath where they'd probably been broken.

He knocked again and was just about to start looking for her spare key when the door opened.

"Sh-sherlock?"

"Mol-"

"John said you'd gone missing. Where have you been? Oh my god, what's happened to you?"

"It's nothing. I'm okay. I just need someplace to stay."

Sherlock walked in and leaned against the wall.

"You can't tell John. You can't tell him I'm here."

Just then Molly's phone buzzed.

**Are you sure you haven't seen him? -JW**

**"** It's John."

Sherlock collapsed against the wall and groaned in pain.

"Molly, please, just- I trust you. I'm sorry I've never... but you count and I've always..."

"No it's okay. You don't need to try and manipulate me."

Sherlock was about to protest when she said, "I'll go get the first aid kit." and walked away.

She came back, tucked the phone back into her pocket without replying, and started to clean the bruise on his eyes where the skin had broken slightly.

"I wasn't trying to manipulate you."

"Yeah, sure." Molly had stopped being bothered by his nature long ago. She couldn't and wouldn't say no whether he was being manipulative or honest. So why put up the fight to try and get him to be honest when that was obviously not going to happen?

"Molly."

"Can you uh get up again?"

"I think."

Sherlock gripped onto her shoulders with one hand and pushed against the wall with the other. Molly guided him to her room and helped him sit on the bed.

"We need to get your coat off and your shirt." Molly blushed at her words, but didn't stammer.

Sherlock noticed, but remained silent and complied. Something was different about Molly. He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was though.

He let her help him though. He took off his shirt, she bandaged him up, offered him some pain pills and left him in the darkness of the guest bedroom.

Sherlock ignored the pills and immediately got up and locked the door.

He set out his supplies and prepared the solution.

He found a vein easily this time.

It only took a few seconds and then he flickered off.

* * *

This went on for three days. He made Molly promise each morning not to tell John, and then when she left he took out his supply and prepared another syringe.

On the third, Sherlock had been feeling better and so he took his supplies to the bathroom. The light in the bedroom was always too dim and made it hard to find his vein. He was also out of heroin, his preferred drug these past few days. He used to prefer cocaine but these days he just wanted to feel nothing. Now that he was out of heroin he'd have to settle for the cocaine. He thought he was ready though. He had to stop running away, he had to concentrate, attempt to delete the events or at least analyze them away if he couldn't. He wanted to go back to 221B, to get over all this and go back to John. He was tired of laying about now that his ribs were better.

Yes, he could do this. He'd take this last hit and then he'd go back. John would never know.

He prepared the correct dose and injected himself. Just then the bathroom door burst open.

He hadn't heard the front door in all his anticipation. Molly had forgotten something in the bathroom. Sherlock hadn't known the lock was broken.

"Sherlock! Sorry, I-"

Sherlock dropped the syringe.

"Is that? Omg, you've been... every day and... how could you? I thought... and John he's so worried." Molly eyes watered. "I can't take this. Get out. Just get out." Tears slipped down her cheeks and soaked into her shirt as she pointed towards the door. She didn't look at him. That was the only way she could throw him out. She still loved him, but she couldn't keep letting him hurt her.

Sherlock just stared in shock and then the drug started to kick in. His heart sped up. And he couldn't stop staring at Molly. She was crying and her lips were quivering... oh her lips. Sherlock licked his.

"Sherlock please."

He startled out of his reverie, stuffed his things into his pockets and ran out of the flat.

He hadn't just stared at Molly's lips, it was the cocaine. It was just the cocaine. He'd forgotten about that particular effect having deleted all memories of it's occurrence.

* * *

He wondered about for a few hours in shock. Molly Hooper had thrown him out. And when the shock wouldn't fade and he couldn't delete any of his memories as planned, he got more drugs. Fuck his old plan. He found an empty park and almost overdosed on heroin.

And then when night came and the streets lit up he watched from a park bench as one flickered off and jealous he stomped off. But this time he didn't think of the light as just himself and how he couldn't flicker off. This time the light was also Molly, and Molly was gone. Some cruel monster had replaced her. He wanted his Molly back. The one that brought him coffee, let him stay at her flat, and most importantly did not throw him out. But he also wanted this Molly just a bit. She didn't stammer and she had courage and... no he would not think about that. Whichever Molly was available would have to do. He still couldn't go to anyone else.

He needed her.


	2. I Wanted to Be a Pirate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided reichenbach didn't happen, but a similar event took place, as you'll see... Also since I'm writing this and making this up as I go along I might have to edit some things once in a while to have them make some sense.
> 
> In the books John can never ever tell when Sherlock is disguised and I find that hilarious. In the show he only gets in disguise a few times, but I'm assuming like in the books he does this more often than we see.

John was starting to panic.

He'd called everyone. _Everyone_. And Mycroft had found anything. John had started to look out the window every thirty minutes, until at last that night he made his way into Sherlock's room again in search of anything, anything at all that might help him find him.

And when there was none he collapsed on the floor against Sherlock's bed. He threw his head back and sighed. Half an hour passed until John decided to stand up and get back to work.

That's when he saw a pile of Sherlock's clothes on the door and a terrible thought dawned on him.

Sherlock was probably out in disguise and he could never ever have the slightest chance of catching him if he was.

He groaned. What was he going to do?

_Ding_

**John he was here, but he left. He's doing drugs again. - MH**

* * *

Molly Hooper hadn't gone back to work. She had locked the door after Sherlock left, retrieved the money from the pair of pants she'd left in the bathroom, and had tried to cry herself to sleep.

When that failed she remembered John and sent him that text. Omitting the fact that she had thrown him out of course.

**I'll have a look around your neighborhood. You wouldn't happen to know if he had a disguise with him? -JW**

* * *

Sherlock was not out in disguise as John thought but had instead avoided any security cameras, _Mycroft_ , and had let the effects of the drugs speak for him. He was skinnier and deadly pale. His eyes were red and slightly sunken. He could have been cast as a zombie and they wouldn't have even needed any make up.

He arrived at Molly's door but didn't knock. It was likely she'd try to take the drugs away before letting him in. He slipped a syringe and most of the cocaine into a secret padded pocket in his coat. He'd used up all the heroin that afternoon in the park, but he'd run out of money too. So all that was left was the coke. It was going to be a hassle being around Molly with it's _effects_. He could already feel it a bit at the thought of her, but he needed the drugs and he needed Molly.

Sherlock steeled himself and knocked.

Molly looked through the peephole and bolted the door as silently as possible. Sherlock was bound to find her spare key.

"Molly please, Sherlock's word's slurred slightly. "I need you."

"I can't let you in."

Molly got out her phone and started typing out a message but Sherlock cut her off.

"Don't tell John, you- you promised Molly."

"I have to Sherlock, I can't let you in but I can't leave you out there with the world either." A tear slipped from Molly's eye. "I don't know what happened. I didn't ask you again because I didn't really want to know."

"I'll tell you Molly. I'll tell you. I just need you please. Don't tell John."

"Tell me then."

"Let me in."

"No."

"I'll give you the drugs."

"No, you'll give me the drugs right now through the letterbox and you'll tell me, then I'll let you in."

Sherlock remembered she probably had a spare key and rummaged for in and under the flower pot. It wasn't there. Under the welcome mat? Yes. Too easy.

He slipped the key in quietly than all in one go turned it and leaned on the door, but Sherlock had forgotten that this was the new Molly.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock stayed leaning against the door and put his foot in the crack to stop her from closing it at least.

"Molly please."

Molly looked through the crack. She gasped then bit her lip at the state of him and started to cry.

"I can't Sherlock. And I have to tell John." The phone shook in her hand as she started to type out the rest of the message.

"I wanted to be a pirate!"

"What?"

Sherlock closed his eyes.

"I wanted to be a pirate. Mummy bought me a sailboat and- a hat, and everything, and dressed me up. I had a sword and I had a bed in the shape of a boat. I used to run around being a pirate, and then one day... I annoyed Mycroft too much. We always played games, wars. Got each other's toys and hid them or fed them to the dogs, but some toys we silently agreed were off limit, but that day... He stole them and he made me think he'd burn them. I discovered later he didn't but I threw a tantrum and Mummy couldn't calm him and Father got annoyed, and- Molly please! I can't, I can't."

Now Sherlock was crying. Tears streamed down his face and he sunk down to the floor.

Molly had never seen him cry. The most she had seen him was sad. There had been a case once. John had been in danger and Sherlock hadn't known what to do...

_"So what's the plan? John's always saying you have secret codewords, vatican cameos, and you-"_

_Sherlock looked up from his microscope and gave her look that clearly said, Shut Up. Molly stopped talking and continued observing him her work. A few seconds later she caught him looking at John._

_"You look sad." Molly froze as she realized the words had come out of her mouth. Sherlock looked up and tilted his head._

_"I mean-"_

_"There's no need to make conversation Molly."_

_"I just, you look sad when he can't see you. Are you okay?"_

_"Molly."_

_"I just mean, I know what that means. Looking sad when nobody can see you. My father-"_

_"You see me."_

_"I don't count."_

_Sherlock's eyes widened slightly._

_"What I'm trying to say is, if there's anything you need. You can have me, I mean- not have me but... I-"_

Molly blushed at the memory. He'd taken her up on her word and now she was abandoning him.

Molly slipped the phone back into her pocket and opened the door.

Sherlock fell to the floor. Only have of him was inside and he seemed to out of it to me. The conversation had probably taken all his will power to complete.

Molly went into doctor mode. She checked his pupils. Dilated.

"Molly..." Sherlock whispered, his hand trying to reach up for her.

Molly took his hand and took his pulse. "I'm right here."

Elevated pulse, but not too dangerous.

"What did you take Sherlock? Can you stand up at all?"

"No. Heroin and then the cocaine more recently."

"Don't exert yourself." Molly swallowed as she realized he still had the drugs on him.

She searched his pockets and took out what she could find. Then she tried to drag him in but she couldn't move him more than a few steps. It was enough to close the door but he seemed to be too out of it now and too weak. Probably hadn't eaten for days.

Molly left him there, flushed the drugs down the toilet, and got her stethoscope.

She unbuttoned his shirt. He could feel every whisper of the fabric against his skin, and then Molly's hand resting gently on him. Molly's hand... on him. Sherlock groaned in embarrassment and tried to get on his side.

"Sherlock I need to listen. You could have overdosed."

"Didn't."

Molly pushed his shoulder and pinned it down. His breathing was irregular and his pulse was fast like before but at least not irregular.

"Stop fussing. Used to it." Sherlock waved her hands away.

Molly frowned.

"How much did you take?"

"I want to flicker."

"What?"

"I want it to go away. You made me tell, you- made it come back. Molly... I want my Molly back."

Sherlock gripped her arm. The effect was too powerful. He looked at her, dried tears on her cheeks, eyes red from crying, and he could only see her lips. Her perfect lips. He'd lied when he'd said they looked small. He much preferred it to the awful fake looking lipstick. He wanted to kiss her... He tightened his grip and closed his eyes in concentration for a second. He couldn't. She wasn't...

"You're not my Molly. I need my Molly. She knows my secret."

"What are you talking about? I'm the only Molly."

She was the only Molly?

"Then you've _seen_ me and you count. You've always counted. I tried to tell you yesterday."

"Sherlock I need to get you to bed."

Molly managed to get him into a sitting position, then she stood up and pulled him to his feet. They stumbled terribly though and she ended up pressed against the wall with Sherlock's arms wrapped around her and his head buried in her neck. She tried to maneuver herself into a more comfortable position so he could lean on her and walk to the bedroom but his grip tightened and wouldn't let her budge.

"Molly," he whispered in her ear and she shivered. "I feel."

"Sherlock. I don't know what you're going on about."

Sherlock leaned back and looked into her eyes. "John can't-"

"I know already. I promise I won't tell him."

"John can't know." He repeated. "Only you..."

He leaned into her, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. She smelled like the citrus shampoo he'd seen in her bathroom and chemicals from the morgue, perfect. It was getting harder to resist.

"Sh-sherlock."

He opened his eyes again and they darted towards her lips. Why should he hold back? She already knew his secret.

He leaned in closer.

They shared a breath and then he pressed his lips to hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter with it's pirate parts were my main plot bunny. I didn't have a great childhood and I can relate to Sherlock a lot so I feel something similar happened to him. There was no abuse or anything but just bad relationships with parents and family wear you down and change you. And it's really hard to get over. You become cold and pretend to be unfeeling because it's easier than trying to explain that it's hard to express yourself. There isn't exactly anyone you can blame as they did nothing really wrong, you just couldn't get along. So you're left just sort of there and you want that part of your life you missed back. But you're also to proud to admit you want it back. To proud to admit you can feel.
> 
> I've found people who see past the barriers I put up and help me without demanding I destroy them and I'm also taking steps to repair that part of me. I'm buying a hypothetical pirate's hat and hanging it in my room. :) This story is about Sherlock finding someone and doing something similar. I think he's been doing this all along with John and Mrs. Hudson but he doesn't understand they can see past hims so he thinks only Molly can since she's shown him she can in a rather blunt manner.


	3. In the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if it's even possible to be drowsy on cocaine (which I know let's you be up all night), but Sherlock hasn't slept or eaten in days... so I don't know. And then later when he's withdrawing from everything at once, oh just fuck it all. In this story cocaine is actually this magical drug that lets authors turn angst on to the max.
> 
> Let's just continue with my highly inaccurate portrayal of a drugs, addiction, and withdrawal!
> 
> Shorter chapter btw, sorry. I can't promise to update regularly at all. And I'll probably never update on the weekends. Reviews to improve the chances of me updating though... especially if you have some good critique.

Sherlock was kissing her!

That was all Molly's mind seemed capable of thinking. That is, until it realized he really wasn't kissing her at all. He was just pressed into her, every inch of them touching, but not moving in the slightest. He was gripping onto her arm and waist but that seemed more for support than anything.

His face wasn't moving.

His lips were still against hers.

Not to say that Molly didn't enjoy it. The closeness, his warmth, and the slight pressure on her lips was beyond overwhelming. Having given up any hope he'd ever even touch her at all, they hadn't even shaken hands after all, this was just... she wanted to scream.

She contained herself though and exhaled softly through her nose. Sherlock mirrored the action, they shared a breath, and suddenly Molly thought it was the most intimate thing she'd ever experienced. Better than any sex she'd ever had. She had never felt such a connection with someone as she did then.

She brought her hand up to the nape of his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair hoping he'd mirror that action, but he didn't. The gesture did not go unnoticed though. Molly felt his pulse increase beneath her hand. He was obviously affected, but he still wasn't moving.

Molly started to wonder if the rumors were true. "The virgin," she'd heard some say his brother called him. Did he really not know how to kiss? Surely he'd seen people kissing. Maybe he was as overwhelmed by the sensations as she was. She hadn't moved much either after all.

Molly moved her lips experimentally against his.

But she didn't get to feel the result of the experiment.

The doorbell rang.

Molly broke away immediately. It was probably John.

"Shit."

Sherlock remained in a slight daze, but at least now he was standing up on his own again.

"You have to hide."

Molly pushed him towards the guest bedroom. The doorbell rang again.

"One second!"

She ran towards the door, checked any trace of Sherlock was gone, and opened it.

"Sorry, I was just-"

"No, sorry for bothering you, it's just... I can't find him anywhere Molly."

Oh god, another emotionally distressed man in her flat. Was she some sort magnet or something?

"He didn't leave anything, did he? Or give any hint as to where he might have gone?"

Molly gulped. She'd promised.

"He came in and he asked me to help him and, well- I- He was pacing back and forth... paranoid you would find him. He wanted me to hide him. I- ah pointed out that he seemed like he was on drugs and then he just sort of gave me this look and I balked. I asked him what he was on. I told him I had to text you. He just sort of ran away then. I don't think there's anything we can do, and he definitely doesn't want you to find him. I think he'll come back on his own eventually." Half-truths never hurt.

"Yes... I'm just worried, about the drugs especially. He could overdose, or..."

"John, I know this is hard but he's been there before and he's Sherlock. He threw a tantrum once because I'd added two drops instead of three to one of his experiments."

John frowned. "Yes, well... sorry to bother you Molly. I'll be off."

"'Night."

Molly closed the door and rushed to the guest bedroom. She hadn't heard a peep. For all she knew he'd climbed out the window.

But no, he was still there.

He was sitting on the bed staring off into space. He didn't even acknowledge her presence.

"Sherlock?"

Molly moved closer.

"Sherlock." She touched his shoulder but still he stared off into space.

Molly leaned down in front of him and noticed his lip was quivering and his eyes were tearing up. She placed her hands on his cheeks and took his face in her hands. His eyes flickered to hers.

"I've sent John away. What's wrong? You don't have to hide from me."

A sob escaped his lips and he leaned forward to press his head into the crook of her neck. "Everything."

Molly's chest constricted. She petted his hair softly.

"Can you tell me?"

His eyes widened and he tried to shake his head and back away but Molly caught him.

"Sshh, it's okay. You don't have to tell me anything."

Molly guided him back to the crook of her neck. Sherlock relaxed almost going limp against her.

"I think I understand... what you were saying before. I think. Just wanted to check that you didn't want to talk. I won't ask again. I'll let you tell me when you're ready. I only want you to feel comfortable, to be okay."

"Nothing makes it okay. Not the drugs. Not even you." He mumbled against her.

Molly frowned. Nothing was going to make him feel 100%. He'd probably erased whatever had happened when he was little. He'd been able to move on, although she didn't know how he'd done it, what exact role the drugs had played, but now that the memories were back it was very unlikely that they would go away. Sherlock boasted about deleting things, but it was easy to forget facts, life changing events on the other hand...

How was she going to explain it all to him? That it was hopeless and yet not hopeless at the same time.

Molly bit her lip. Maybe...

"Sherlock will... can I tell you something, a story of sorts? Will you listen? I think it will help."

No response.

"Sherlock?"

No response still. The only sound in the room was his deep heavy breathing... He'd fallen asleep.

Molly carefully stood up a bit and cradling his upper body laid him as gently as possible back on the bed.

He must have been incredibly drained, both emotionally and physically. Cocaine usually kept you up all night.

Molly heaved a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. She was pretty exhausted too, but Sherlock couldn't sleep like this.

She placed his feet on the bed, rotating him so his head was on the pillows. Then she pushed him to one side and got one arm out of his coat sleeve. She went to the other side tugged the coat out from underneath him. She was just pulling on the sleeve when she felt something hard inside the coat. There was a secret pocket and more drugs.

Molly sighed and rubbed her forehead. How was she going to deal with the drug issue? He would start feeling withdrawal symptoms any minute now.

Molly flushed the drugs down and hung the coat on the door.

She was just about to leave and close the door when he stirred a bit. He didn't wake though, but Molly realized she probably shouldn't leave him alone. He could wake up and run away, try to get more drugs.

She got ready for bed and slipped in beside him. This wasn't an indulgence for her though. She turned away from him, turned off the light, and tried to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is incredibly hard to keep in any sort of character whatsoever. Why?! Also I think Molly is way smarter than we give her credit for, even Sherlock's "old" Molly who stammered and was head over heels in love with him.
> 
> Also concerning the kiss. I think Sherlock is either a virgin or had some pretty bad experiences he's chosen to "forget". Either way I think he'd be a dreadful kisser. But at the same time I don't think Molly would mind. When you're in love with someone the slightest touch can be overwhelming.
> 
> Also, still debating whether Christmas happened...


	4. You Ensorcell Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to mention in this fic, Sherlock has said "... a chemical defect." but not "...found in the loosing side." Or maybe he has but just to be mean and he didn't really mean it.

* * *

Sherlock woke up to the sound of Molly's soft breathing beside him. He observed her for a second than searched his surroundings for his coat.

Sleep had helped him immensely even if he loathed to admit it. But now... There was nothing.

Molly was still asleep. He didn't want to wake her.

The room was almost completely silence.

He had nothing to do. There were no puzzles, no John around. He couldn't think, that would just lead him back to the memories. Sleep had shushed them a bit. Made all the pain merge into this constant ache bubbling just beneath the surface. It wasn't quite boiling but it would burn if touched nonetheless.

It was just Sherlock and the craving... He didn't want to. What would Molly say? She'd probably slept beside him to guard against this exact possibility.

Sherlock moved to get his coat.

God, he needed the cocaine. He needed the stimulation, that rush of a case. It was useless for numbing the pain, but he still needed to appease his mind. It had been too long without proper stimulation.

He dug around until until he found the secret pocket.

There was nothing there.

Sherlock panicked. His heart raced. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. She'd found the drugs. He banged his head against the door in frustration.

"Sherlock?" asked a sleepy voice.

Sherlock turned around to see a very sleepy Molly looking at him through half lidded eyes.

And then something sparked in Sherlock's brain. An idea he'd come dangerously close to but hadn't quite managed to pin down.

He wanted Molly. He could have gone anywhere else but he wanted her. He hadn't wanted to dwell and hadn't been ready to admit the reason why until last night.

And he wanted a case, a distraction. He needed to be off the drugs. To go back to John.

So the logical answer was Molly.

Sherlock strode to the bed and crawled over to her.

"The- I- threw them away. I-"

"I don't need them anymore."

"What, just like that? Are you feeling better?"

Sherlock frowned. He willed himself not to think about it.

"No," he answered through gritted teeth.

"I don't understand." Molly sat up a bit against the headboard.

"I kissed you."

"Yes, well," _not really..._

"And your pulse elevated. Your pupils dilated. You pulled me closer. An indication you were not adverse and will not be adverse if it were to occur again. Am I correct?"

"Yes, but I- Sherlock, what exactly was that? I mean, you've always been so... rude and uninterested."

"So you didn't _see_ me, at least not completely." Sherlock turned his head at an angle and studied her. "How interesting... And you can't see me now."

"See you?"

"I lie Molly. I lied. My face lied. My words lied! I couldn't admit-" Sherlock looked down and growled in frustration. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I've said before that sentiment is a chemical defect. But I lied, or I was wrong- It doesn't matter. Excessive sentiment is dangerous and reduces mental productivity. And if I had given into sentiment, if I had admitted it. It would have grown. Like a parasite. A filthy annoying thought demanding parasite. I've let some sentiments grow excessively. The garden is full of weeds. That house, it planted them all. I never should have gone... I-"

Sherlock grew silent. His eyes stared somewhere off into the distance. Molly waited for him to resume his explanation.

Sherlock tried not to look off into space, not to think. His jaw tensed slightly than with a deep breath he relaxed, toed off his shoes, crawled closer to Molly and sat down cross-legged beside her.

"I now have reason to believe the previous experiments that led to my conclusion concerning sentiment were flawed. I still have reason to believe my hypothesis was partly correct but I should resume my examination of the matter if you would not be adverse."

"You want to be your experiment? To examine if sentiment is a chemical defect?"

Sherlock did not detect the tone of anger that lingered in her voice.

"That would be another way of putting it, yes, but the question is just how much sentiment is dangerous and reduces mental productivity. "

"So what, you want to have sex? You want to experiment with me?"

"No."

"No?"

"I think perhaps we should start by kissing and spending time together. That seems the common route. And then we'll proceed as necessary."

"This is a a joke. This is all just a distraction so you don't have to talk about what happened. I promised I wouldn't ask, isn't that enough?" Molly's eyes were tearing up again. "Is this all I am to you, some experiment, a distraction? You can't distract yourself with me. It's not going to help. I can't fix you Sherlock. You have to fix yourself. I can help, I can listen, or not listen, but I can't do this." Molly got out of bed and slipped on her slippers.

Sherlock lunged forward and grabbed her wrist.

"It's not a joke. I don't see how you interpreted is as one as my delivery did not imply anything funny. I heard your promise quite well. I have no fear now that you won't keep your word. And no you are not an experiment, you will be a test subject-"

"Oh great, now I'm a lab rat."

Molly made to pull her wrist away but Sherlock gripped it tighter and pulled her back to the bed. He drew his eyebrows together and his face hardened.

"Molly Hooper, will you please listen?"

She nodded silently.

"You will be a test subject in an experiment. As for being a distraction that is quite true. You threw my drugs away. I do need to quit though, but I have no cases, I have nothing to keep me busy. The urge to use will go away with a case, a puzzle, or in this case an experiment. If you do not wish to participate than I will have to find other ways of dealing with the issue, but this is the easiest. And no, you are not just both of these things. I thought my thoughts on that matter were clear. You are the reason I'm reconsidering my hypothesis. As for being fixed. I only asked for your help. I don't know what to do Molly. I don't know what to do with not knowing what to do. I don't wish to talk or think about it, not yet, but perhaps later... You seem quite adept at handling emotional issues. The drug issue, well I will fix that tomorrow at the latest. John must be furious."

"And after this is over. After you've come to a conclusion and you get bored with me. What then?"

"Do you know, John is not the only one who keeps a record of our cases. I've long kept a record as many times I have already solved the cases that come to me apart from the odd detail. I also treasure them greatly and the memory of solving them, the memory of the excitement, the rush of deductions, it's quite unlike anything else. But I'm getting away from my point. In my index do you know who is listed under W?" Sherlock smiled wickedly and when Molly gave no guess he continued, "John Watson. I got rid of his limp. Case solved, but has he left Baker Street? Have I become bored with him? Have I changed my conduct with him in any way whatsover?"

"No, except well, you're not _as_ rude, I suppose."

"Than what makes you think I'll change my conduct with you?"

"But what if this hypothesis of yours is wrong, what then? As much as you'd like to believe things will go back to the way they were, they won't, they can't."

"Than I will have to consider how I will cope with the chemical defect and keep it from becoming too excessive. My new hypothesis is that a certain amount might be beneficial. Have I alleviated your doubts?"

"Yes."

"Than you would not mind it if we commenced?"

"I- Umm... what? Now?"

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a tease. Muahahaha. I did warn you and say eventual Sherlolly. Don't expect smut just 4 chapters in.
> 
> Replies (on ff.net):
> 
> Sorry, but that wasn't my intention at all, from either of them. If you're referring to Molly, this would only be true if she had pushed him away earlier, and why would she, she could hardly hurt him. She's pushing him away now because I think she's smart and she wouldn't let a guy keep hurting her like that forever so she's choosing to keep a cautious distance. She's already been hurt so it's not a matter of preventing it. If you are referring to Sherlock, I hardly think the thought of hurting anyone is going to stop him, I mean look at John. He ran away because he was thrown out, and because he panicked just a bit.
> 
> Concerning Sherlock's sexuality. One can never be sure, and it all is very fluid and undefinable. I personally don't like to label my sexuality because even a complex and open label like pansexual or panromantic doesn't quite fit me so I refuse to label myself. I like who I like and I don't see why I need to worry about a label. I think in some ways Sherlock is the same and never quite thinks about it. I'll explore this more later on (Molly is bound to ask).
> 
> If you didn't already know, asexuality is usually defined by a lack of sexual attraction (or the lack of interest in sex, but usually it's the first). Many still experience arousal, attraction (romantic or platonic, not sexual) to other people and their romantic orientations can be describe as homoromantic, biromantic, etc. They might or might not like to be in relationships or participate in sex. Sometimes they do it because it pleases their partners or because they want children. Asexuality =/= Celibacy.


	5. Cases, Cases, Cases

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I was very busy and wrote this partly on the bus, then at school, then on my iPod, than on my computer, and then I did final edits of the iPad. Here's a long chapter to make up for it.
> 
> For this chapter and the next few I'd just like to mention for those of you who haven't read the books that Sherlock gets excited, very very excited when he is on a case. Doyle's descriptions are priceless. The first very good one is in The Boscombe Valley Mystery in my opinion. Here is an excerpt:
> 
> "Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent as this. Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of Baker Street would have failed to recognise him. His face flushed and darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while his eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter. His face was bent downward, his shoulders bowed, his lips compressed, and the veins stood out like whipcord in his long, sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed to dilate with a purely animal lust for the chase, and his mind was so absolutely concentrated upon the matter before him that a question or remark fell unheeded upon his ears, or, at the most, only provoked a quick, impatient snarl in reply."
> 
> Also please note that it's almost impossible not to have withdrawal symptoms and to quit like Sherlock did but in the stories and the show to a certain extent he is always portrayed like this. He wants his mind running and at work and when it isn't he takes drugs. If he's working he doesn't seem to need them as much, although he sometimes takes them to help him think. So basically, Sherlock is magic.
> 
> I have also thrown the scientific method out the window. This is in no way how you actually conduct research. I mixed up the steps quite a bit.

_Previously:_

_"Than you would not mind it if we commenced?"_

_"I- Umm... what? Now?"_

_"Yes."_

"I'd love to, but... Can I get dressed first? Wash my teeth. You should wash up too. I probably have some clothes that will fit you. And you should eat. You probably haven't eaten in days."

"Mmm, yes, I agree. I also need to get some things quickly. I'll be needing a notebook, some nicotine patches, painkillers for my rib, it's starting to hurt again, and a few other things."

"A notebook, for what? And nicotine patches... Sherlock..."

"I will need a notebook to record my observations. As for the nicotine patches, on other occasions I have noticed that you dislike being around smokers. You cringe slightly at the smoke."

"You're going to record how you feel?" Molly tried not to laugh.

"How we both feel. I am a test subject too. I would like to compare our experiences. Speaking of which, I would also like to conduct an observation of you. To give you a room in my mind palace. Will you agree to that also?"

"I suppose, and why didn't you say so?"

"Why didn't I say what?"

"That we were both test subjects." _That this is really just you trying to convert a relationship into empirical data._

"I thought that was clear."

"Oh, forget it, now I know it's just you being well you and trying to analyze everything to death. I'll be in the bathroom. Think about telling John you're safe please. Even if it's only a text message. I'll even talk to him if you want."

"I'll text him."

"Good." She stroked the hand that was holding her than slipped away.

**I'm at Molly's. I'm fine. -SH**

Three seconds later the phone was ringing. Sherlock looked at it and sighed. He hated, hated talking on the phone. He'd sent a text. John would have to make due with it.

"Why aren't you answering?" asked Molly from the bathroom door. It actually sounded more like "Wha ashnt chu answeing?" as she was still brushing her teeth, but Sherlock understood.

"I have already texted him. You said that would be sufficient."

Molly washed her mouth.

"Oh, give me that... It's Molly. He came back. Everything is fine. He's just going to stay here for..." Molly looked at Sherlock.

"...a few days?" asked Sherlock softly.

Molly nodded, "...a few days."

_"What about the drugs?"_

"It's under control. He'll be back in no time John."

_"What, you mean I can't come?"_

"I think it'd be best if you didn't."

_"Keep me updated than?"_

"Yes, of course." Molly hung up. "Was that really so complicated?"

"I dislike speaking on the phone. It's very hard to deduce people from just their voice." He grabbed his coat. "I'll be leaving now then."

* * *

Sherlock wasn't back. It had been an hour. Molly was starting to worry. Had she really been so stupid as to let him go out alone and without his phone. He'd left it on the bed.

Another half hour passed and just when she was about to call John and go look for him again there was a soft knock at her door.

Molly ran to it and looked through the peephole. It was him!

She gave a sigh of relief and opened the door.

"Where have you been?"

"Something took longer than expected."

"You're not back on drugs are you? I trust you, but I need to check."

"No, but go ahead, check."

Molly stuck her hands in the exterior pockets. Nothing. She slipped her hand inside the coat and checked the secret one. Sherlock shivered slightly at the contact. He wasn't used to being touch.

"Nothing, but will you take it off?"

Sherlock closed the door and hung his coat. Molly took his hand and rolled up his sleeve, checking for recent injection sites. There were none but in their place there were 2 nicotine patches. She frowned at them then took the bag in his other hand and looked inside. Nicotine patches, over the counter pain killers, condoms. Molly blushed. And beneath it all, oh, he'd brought Chinese. And no drugs. She left the bag on a nearby table and rolled up the other sleeve. This arm was more used and she cringed at the scars, but none of them were fresh. Last, she padded his pant pockets. He was clean then.

"Satisfied?"

She looked up and was met with a pair dark steely eyes. She almost couldn't see the surrounding blue with how dilated they were. She gulped, "Yes." God, he was gorgeous, and now he was in his reach. It was almost to much. This couldn't be real.

Sherlock though about touching her, kissing her. Her pupils had just dilated slightly. But no, he had to prepare the experiment. He had to wash up. She probably wouldn't like it much if he was this dirty. Hell, he didn't like it.

"Those spare clothes you mentioned?"

"Ah, yes, I'll go get them."

Molly came back with a pair of old blue men's pajamas and a thin gray henley shirt.

"Don't forget the lock doesn't work. I won't come in but... yeah, if you want you can put a chair on the other side."

"It won't be a problem."

* * *

Sherlock took a quick shower than proceeded to set up his notebook while Molly heated the food.

"On a scale of one to ten, how strongly did you feel about me when we first met?"

Molly gave him a sad smile. "Sherlock... I- I don't know. Sentiment is hard to measure. I don't think a scale of one to ten will be of any use. Time passes and I forget or I embellish memories. It's always felt like a ten. How about we start at 0 and then we increase of decrease points as necessary?"

"That's brilliant!" Sherlock beamed. "How have I never thought about that. Oh Molly, sweet Molly." Sherlock grabbed her shoulders and shook her excitedly. "It's perfect. this might even be the reason why my previous experiment led me to a false conclusion."

Molly beamed at his confession.

"If we start as zero then when you first met me than will you guide me as best as possible through any changes?" Sherlock was flushed in excitement. His eyes were sparkling and it brought a joy Molly had very rarely experienced when she saw him like this. The feeling had never been so strong. This was why she'd fallen in love with him. His mind. That incredible mind. Not that his body didn't help, but she'd give up all his looks just to seem him like this in his element. So happy.

"Well, I guess that day after I met you it went down to a -5. You were a bit rude. But then I saw you. You were helping Lestrade, making some deductions. I couldn't help it. I instantly had a crush. I think that might be a five. It stayed like that for quite some time. Grew over the beginning of the year I would have said I'm at a hundred, but honestly... maybe 30, 40. I tried to forget you recently. To move on. But I probably only managed to get things down to a twenty. And then just now I think I just hit 50 and it's quite indescribable."

"Just now?"

"Well today, and a bit of yesterday."

"Oh. Has anything in particular cause this?"

"Well you told me what was wrong. You trusted me. You kissed me. But those were just a few points. You clarified I wasn't just an experiment. You made my day. You have improved. You seem to be quitting the drugs, and then... Just now..." Molly licked her lips and clenched his shirt in her hand. She hadn't even noticed she'd been gripping on to it. "Just now, you're all excited and happy and in your element."

Sherlock moved one of the hands on her shoulder to stroke her cheek with his thumb.

"Regret is an odd thing. I rarely regret, but... I regret not doing this earlier."

Molly thought he would kiss her now but he didn't move. They just stayed there starring at each other. It seemed like an endless moment, and it was. Molly would certainly never forget it, because what he did next was arguably better than a kiss.

"I'm sorry Molly, for everything, but it was the only way I knew how to cope. Will you forgive me?"

"Yes," she squeaked.

"Good, shall we eat then?"

"Uh... yes..."

They ate in relative silence. Sherlock's hunger had come back and he would be lucky if he didn't accidentally cut and swallow the Styrofoam plate in his haste. Molly hadn't eaten in a while with the whole mess and while she wasn't eating as fast, she had less food so she finished first.

"So, how will this work? Are we going to date?"

"I had the impression that dating was meant as a tool to get to know one another and get comfortable. I've known you for more than a few years. I think that has been sufficient time to get properly acquainted."

"Dating isn't just about that. Married couples sometimes still date. It's about going out having a bit of fun."

"I would not know were to take you. You are of course welcomed to come along with me on cases."

"That would be great but maybe we can try one date. I'll plan it and we'll see how it goes?"

"That would be... agreeable."

"What are we going to do now? I had plenty of vacation time gathered so I called in to work and told them I'd be taking the week off."

"Well, let's clean up the table and then we can commence with the experiment."

* * *

The table now cleaned Molly moved to sit beside Sherlock on the couch.

Sherlock leaned leaned forward but stopped short when he felt a sharp pain in his rib. He groaned and leaned back on the couch.

"What's wrong?"

"Ribs hurt. Can't turn." He said breathing in short gasps to help the sudden pain.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this now."

" No!" There was a hint of panic in his voice. "It's okay." Molly had never seen him look so determined. "There are other ways to kiss aren't there?"

And with that Sherlock pulled her to him so she was straddling his hips. Molly bit back a moan. This was really happening.

"Molly," Sherlock whispered.

He slipped his hand to the back of her head.

"May I?"

Molly nodded and Sherlock released the clip letting her hair cascade down her shoulders.

"I... like it better this way," he said as if the fact surprised him.

He ran his fingers through her hair. Once. Molly gripped his shirt. Twice. She leaned into him, her eyes fluttering shut. Sherlock recorded each observation in his mind palace.

Three times. "Mmm... that feels-"

He pulled her hair slightly. He didn't know why he'd thought to do that but the result proved incredibly interesting.

"Ah," she gasped and ground her hips into his.

"You like that." It was a statement. "Fascinating."

Molly whimpered. It was too much and he hadn't even kissed her yet.

"Do people normally like that?"

"I wouldn't know. Everyone is different about what they like."

"Will you do it to me?"

"Uh..."

She threaded her fingers into his hair, combing the side than the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes. She gave a small tug but there was no reaction. She soothed the spot, scratching his scalp gently with her nails. He froze at the sensation. His body went absolutely stiff.

"Sherlock?"

"Again," he pleaded in a hoarse voice.

Molly complied. Sherlock hummed softly. It was almost as if he was purring.

Molly was absolutely fascinated by this discovery. Sherlock had become incredibly aroused. She could feel him stirring beneath her and his face was flushed. She just held his neck with her right hand and felt his pulse thrumming away beneath his skin. It felt so good to know she was capable of doing this to him, giving him pleasure.

Sherlock's eyes opened and he pulled her forward so that they were only an inch away. His eyes flickered to and forth across her face as if looking for something, and then he closed them and pressed his lips to hers.

This time Molly moved her lips against his but the result was not exactly what she was expecting. His lips moved but in really, really slow motion. Molly licked his lip lightly than tried to slip her tongue into his mouth to see if perhaps...

Sherlock pulled back, breathing heavily.

Molly frowned. "Sherlock..." He didnt reply. "You don't have to answer if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but... Are you a virgin?"

Sherlock shook for a second, but not in a yes or no. He did it more to clear his head than anything. It was all so much to take in.

"I...uh...never gave it much thought. I suppose so if intercourse is a requirement."

"Have you kissed before?"

"Yes, several times, but it was never like this. There is so much information to take in. It's quite exhilarating, but..." He trailed off.

"Did you go any further?"

"Sort of..." But he did not elaborate.

"Maybe you should stop trying to take in every little detail. Just relax a bit, you can recall it later and organize everything into more... tangible data."

"But the data won't be as accurate."

"Yes, but if you analyze everything to death it's not going to help either."

"If you thinks its best than I will try."

"Just copy me, follow my lead, okay? And tell me if its too much."

Molly leaned forward again and kissed him. She started out slowly, moving her lips against him, scratching the nape of his neck lightly the running her hands down his chest. A spark of arousal suddenly shot through her at the feel of his toned chest beneath the thin skin tight cotton Henley. He wasn't that defined but he was hard as a rock. And the muscles rippled and flexed at her every touch.

Molly held back a moan and broke the kiss. She didn't want to risk deepening it again so instead she started placing small light kisses along his jaw and to his neck.

"Is it okay of I unbutton it?" Molly murmured against his skin. He had such soft skin. And that mole beside his adam's apple. She gave it a lick.

"Mmm..." Sherlock nodded.

Molly unbuttoned the three buttons and nibbled at his collarbone.

"Ah... don't, too sensitive."

"Sorry," Molly soothed the area with a kiss and went back to his neck.

She gave him a small nibble there and he seemed to react to that much better.

He pulled her forward roughly and buried his head into her neck intending to reciprocate but he didn't anticipate the consequences of his actions. He moaned into her neck as a sudden wave of arousal consumed him.

His pants had suddenly become unbearably tight. He felt the heat in his cheeks as they reddened in embarrassment.

"Sherlock?"

He stayed hidden in the crook of her neck.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Molly pulled back to try and look at his face but he tightened his grip around her waist and wouldn't let her budge. She could feel him try to take deep even breaths.

"Sherlock?"

"I can't do this. I can't... think. I didn't even try to think ahead. I didn't think...Urgh."

Molly stroked his dead softly. "It's okay if you stop thinking for a bit. That's the point partly, like I said. I don't understand what you're saying about thinking ahead though..."

"I made a rash move and now..." Sherlock kept trying to get his body under control with deep breaths. "Stop please..."

Molly's fingers stilled. "Sherlock, it's okay. We're bound to make mistakes, bump noses, fall unceremoniously to the floor. You shouldn't be ashamed. It's just me here. No one else will know. Ever. Even if it doesn't work out. I promise. This is just between us. Please don't feel embarrassed around me."

Sherlock continued his with his deep breathing but did not loosen his grip on her.

"Are you doing deep breathing exercises?" Molly managed to pull him away from her to see his face, but he would not look at her.

"Trying to... calm down... Wasn't supposed... let it get to this..."

"There isn't a set way to this. It's okay to go offtrack. We can just sit and talk for a while if you want. You said you wanted to spend time with me too."

"Is that what people do? Talk."

"Well yes. They talk about there lives, share their feelings or-."

"I don't want to talk then." Sherlock interrupted.

"...or," Molly continued, "we can just share things we like, talk about simple unimportant things."

"Why?"

"Because... I don't know. It's nice to share, to know others enjoy what you do. It's a way to connect."

Sherlock looked up. His eyes had lit up.

"Can we talk about my cases?"

"If you want," Molly tried to contain her excitement, "It's a start I guess." _A really, really good start. God how I love when you make all those deductions so quickly._

Molly moved to sit next to him again, cuddling into his side. Sherlock didn't know what to do with his arms at first, but then he settled for wrapping one arm around her waist.

"Which would you like to hear?"

"Whichever one you want... Oh, wait! That one time you came in with the riding crop, what was it for?"

"Ah! A simple matter in the end, but it took quite a great deal of running around to solve." Sherlock paused then. He turned his head toward her, than turned it back, than turned to her again. His eyes looked her over, looking for something in her expression. "Molly..." he started much like that one time he'd clarified to John that he wasnt interested. "Why the riding crop? Molly do you enjoy-"

Molly flushed red and clamped her hand down on his mouth. "We were going to talk about your cases. No personal stuff." Sherlock raised his eyebrow.

"Mmmvery mmmwell," Molly removed her hand and he continued. "Then, as I recall..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I can think of a case involving a riding crop (Any Suggestions?) I'll write out what Sherlock tells Molly, if not, well I'll skip forward in time. I also encourage you to have a guess as to what took Sherlock so long.
> 
> ... Also I think Molly might have a kink... oooh. I've seen a few fics were Molly is into BDSM a bit but she's usually a sub. If I decide to go into that subject at some point, she probably won't be. I much prefer sub Sherlock, whether it be with John or Irene. I have a thing for virgin!sherlock, in any subject matter.
> 
> I'm pretty sure most of you know what a henley shirt looks like. 99% percent of the people on here seem to be girls (Any guys reading this? I feel so weird.). It is a guys shirt, but anyways. I'd die to see Sherlock in one. Look it up if you haven't heard of them. Dexter (the serial killer) wears them if you remember. Also Bill in True Blood if you've watched that. It's a tight, collarless long sleeve with a few buttons on top. I'm pretty sure you'd all die to see Sherlock in one too once you know what I'm talking about.
> 
> I'm concerned about all the dialogue. Can you guys easily differentiate between Molly and Sherlock? Are their speech patterns different enough. I hate dialogue tags and prefer not to use them, but if they're necessary I'll put them in,
> 
> Replies (on ff.net):
> 
> Thanks for all the reviews as usual.
> 
> Ssmill:
> 
> I let her react a bit in chapter 4, hopefully both Sherlock and Molly's views on the experiment have been cleared up in this chapter.
> 
> 243TypesOfTobaccoAsh:
> 
> Awesome Username, first of all. Thanks for the great critique. I think I've grown more comfortable with writing and posting this on here so I'm being more descriptive. In general I like to vary how much I describe to increase or decrease the pace. I dislike books that describe only either too much or too little. So yeah.
> 
> I think the same about Sherlock. And in this case I think he wants to give pleasure but isn't quite sure how, but what makes Molly a perfect fit is that she understands this. Understands how hard it is for him to even be in a relationship. She can't expect him to actually call it one.
> 
> As I said to Ssmill, this chapter hopefully cleared up how Molly feels about being a test subject in an experiment, but the issue is bound to come back.


	6. I Got High Off Cats, Okay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was super busy again. I wrote this real quick (so no whip case sorry) but then I might not update again for some time. I've got mid-terms. But you know if I get a bunch of reviews I'll gladly stop studying for a few hours to write the next part (which is filled with angst!).
> 
> But if I do take a while to come back I sort of got another plot bunny so it's not that I'm stuck or anything.
> 
> For this chapter I stole a tiny phrase from Doctor Who that I absolutely adore. I ship 11/River so bad it hurts. The wrist thing last episode was just so adorable! I might write a oneshot or something for that episode when I start to crave the next half of the season.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked.

Molly raised an eyebrow. Usually that was her line.

"Throwing away Toby's litter box. I don't think he's coming back. He ran away, porobably died. He was always so good at coming back. I should... move on."

"That has never been one of your best ideas." He smirked.

Molly gave him a glare that would have stopped anybody else dead, but Sherlock ignored it.

"Are you sure he ran away?"

"Sherlock. He's. Not. Here." A tear slipped down her eye.

"Yes, that was perfectly clear."

"So if he's not here, he's outside, and if he hasn't come back, it means he ran away or he didn't come back because something happened to him and he's dead."

"That _seems_ like a perfectly logical sequence of events, but it isn't."

"Look if you're just going to insult me-"

"I am merely correcting the errors in your logic. If he's not here that does not necessarily mean he's outside. If he's outside and hasn't come back it doesn't necessarily mean he ran away or even that he's dead. I had hoped to tell you when I was sure of the state he was in and whether he was going to survive, but your emotional state suggests that would be unwise." Sherlock stood up and walked over to her. "I found him gravely injured this morning on the side of the road. I've taken him to a veterinarian and they're doing all they can to save him. I did not wish to worry you, but we would have had to get a new litter box if he survived."

Molly opened her mouth but it wouldn't say anything. She stood there like a gaping fish for what seemed like ages until at last she moved forwards. She stroked his face with her fingertips as if he were some bizarre creature from another world. Sherlock shivered at the soft touch.

She smiled, a wide delighted smile and laughed in relief, and it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. Not even his violin could compare. It produced feelings within him that he hardly knew. Getting joy from making someone else happy. That wasn't his area. He'd thought it a myth, but now with firsthand evidence to the contrary. He wanted to write it all down! Explain every little reaction to her!

But Molly didn't give him the chance.

"You impossible, impossible man." And suddenly she had jumped into his arms.

Sherlock staggered back than wrapped his arms around her in support so they wouldn't fall. Nobody had jumped him ever, well, at least not like this. He hadn't expected this.

Earlier Molly had fallen asleep against him as he told her about his cases. When he noticed he stayed there on the couch, just observing her. He took note of her shallow breathing and her decreased pulse and then his mind strayed as he smelled that scent that was uniquely Molly. She hadn't showered and the smell of the morgue as well as her shampoo had warn off. Sherlock thought she would smell worse, but he liked her natural smell. It was soft and indescribably amazing. He ran his fingers through her her and smelled it. So good. He cupped her sleeping face gently and stared at her forehead with a puzzled expression before leaning down and giving it a chaste kiss. And then he got off the couch and gently laid her down. She made an unintelligible sound than settled into the cushions. He'd opened up his notebook and gotten to work until she woke up again and went to make tea and throw out the litter box. He had not expected to resume their experiment until later. He still had things from his last experiment to write down.

But the smell of Molly, the heat of her body wrapped around him. Sherlock hugged her tighter to him and pressed his head into the crook of her neck. He felt so safe for some reason. So very calm and safe.

Molly let go a bit and slipped back down to rest her feet on the floor. "Thank You." She leaned back to look at him with the intention of giving him a chaste kiss.

"Sherlock, you're crying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do pet emergency hospitals exist? Well if they do than Sherlock took Toby there, if not than... I'm assuming you just go to the veterinarian.
> 
> Replies (on ff.net):
> 
> 243TypesOfTobaccoAsh:
> 
> I love love love the idea of virgin Sherlock. I don't care much about virginity and don't think it should be that important. But! there is something about the first good time (because he isn't a real complete virgin) that's so interesting. Writing it is really really fun.
> 
> If I explore BDSM I have a similar view to yours. I think Sherlock and Molly will like to switch roles occasionally and also they will only do it sometimes to spice things up. I think Molly just made him shut up because that's something she feels is even more personal and embarrassing than usual.
> 
> Glad the dialogue wasn't confusing and...
> 
> Glad you everyone enjoyed the henleys. Nobody did know what they were called. I think it's the only piece of clothing that has a weird name that I know because I saw them and I instantly was like: "I needs Dexter Kill Shirt." and then Thinkgeek .com just goes and make one. Don't think it's available anymore though.


	7. Pleasing You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope Sherlock doesn't get too out of character here. He's always so hard to pin down. Didn't turn out angsty because I wrote more here than I thought I would and the angst happens later so it will happen in the next chapter.
> 
> EDIT: I got a tumblr just for my fanfic stuff. It's infinitemonkeyswriting . tumblr . com I'll submit all my stories their too, but also I'll reblog any art and the occasional fic. I'll also open up requests for one-shots but I can't guarantee anything.

* * *

Previously:

_Molly let go a bit and slipped back down to rest her feet on the floor. "Thank You." She leaned back to look at him with the intention of giving him a chaste kiss._

_"Sherlock, you're crying."_

Sherlock wiped a tear from his eye and looked at it with curiosity. "But I'm not sad... I'm happy... I'm very happy. I-"

"Sssshhh... they're tears of joy. Why are you so happy?"

"I thought that was just some ridiculous expression but..." Sherlock smiled and a laugh escaped his lips.

To Molly he'd never looked more beautiful. She'd never gotten the chance to see him like this, truly happy. He was always putting on those fake smiles.

"...I'm happy! Truly happy!" Sherlock grabbed her face and with a huge grin gave her a quick kiss on the lips than wrapped his arms around her and picked her up again.

Molly immediately locked her legs around his skinny frame and held on to his shoulders for balance.

"What's gotten into you?"

Sherlock seemed to ignore the question. "And your happy, aren't you? Because of Toby? This is so strange. God it feels good. Is this what you usually feel? Why does it only work on me with you?"

"Usually feel when what?"

"When you do things for others. When you make them happy."

"Oh, Sherlock." Molly kissed him.

Sherlock wasn't quite expecting it but found himself reciprocating more than before. He stepped backwards a few steps and maneuvered them onto the couch. Their teeth clashed unceremoniously as they crashed into the soft cushions.

"Sorry, but my ribs are killing me. Twice already you've jumped me."

"Second time was your idea."

"You started it."

"Just shut up..." Molly moved to kiss him.

Sherlock evaded her lips and dug his head into the crook of her neck.

"No kissing. It's too much. I want to... savor the moment."

"Oh..." And Molly melted into his arms.

If there was one thing she'd never ever imagined would happen it was Sherlock Holmes hugging onto her like he was doing. She'd hoped maybe for some strange case he'd need a girlfriend, and maybe he'd have to kiss her, maybe just maybe they'd have a quick shag one night and never mention it again, but this... this was just beyond everything she could ever hope. And he wasn't the only one who was happy and comfortable. Molly even as caring as she was never really liked hugs. She always felt smothered, but he seemed to be her exception. They were clinging onto each other like their lives depended on it but she felt cozy and safe. _I love you,_ she wanted to say in that instant but she couldn't. He'd probably already deduced it but she thought saying it would probably scare him. And she had to save herself from the disappointment of the awkward silence that would follow. He would, after all, never say, _I love you,_ back. Molly pushed away the thought and burrowed even closer to him.

"I want to finish my story later." Sherlock mumbled into her hair. "I don't know what you hope to gain from it, but I'll tell you if you still want to know. Like this though, only like this." And he hugged her tighter to him.

"Sherlock, you don't have to..."

"But it will please you."

"You don't have to be uncomfortable to please me. I'm happy when you're happy too, remember. I want you to tell me willingly when you're ready."

"This is me informing you that I am ready."

"You don't seem ready."

"Molly..." Sherlock leaned back to give her a pained look. His eyes were asking her to understand something... understand...

...what?

_Oh... pleasing her was his excuse to talk about it._

"You can tell me later than, before we go to bed? I'll make some tea and we can chat."

"That would be agreeable."

"Can we continue that little experiment of yours now?"

Sherlock nodded. "I need you to input somethings in my notebook later. You won't forget will you?"

"No, after this..." Molly licked her lips. Sherlock's pupils dilated at the unconscious action. "After this..." Molly was only an inch away now. He could feel the soft whisper of her words caress his lips.

He took the initiative this time and pulled her to him. He couldn't resist her lips anymore. It was not as overwhelming this time and he kissed her faster... harder.

Molly squeaked at the intensity. Sherlock pulled her closer, every inch of them touching. He licked at her lips like he'd felt her do before and than experimentally darted his tongue into her mouth. The sensation was... _different..._ but not unpleasant. He did it again and this time Molly opened her lips and let her tongue caress his. Sherlock shivered at the feeling. This felt almost invasively in it's level of intimacy but Sherlock, determined not to give up just because of the strangeness of these new feelings, continued. Everything was going to feel invasive. He knew that going in. _Relax,_ Molly had said, _relax._

Sherlock let his body go slack and he tried not to think and to just concentrate on the feeling. On Molly. Instead of noting how odd it all felt he noted her reactions. Not every single one, that had been too much also, but the important ones.

The way she sighed against his lips when he stroked her back.

The way she arched into him when he kissed her just so.

How she let little moans and growls slip when he tangled his fingers into her hair and tugged slightly.

How her pulse raced faster and faster with every touch.

How he made her happy.

"Mmm-" Sherlock broke off the kiss, panting heavily. What was that emotion? It came on so suddenly like it had just a moment ago and it left him so... found and lost at the same time. He liked it, the being happy part, but it was also so... _weakening_ , he thought in disgust. _So this must be why people do such stupid things..._ his mind supplied. Sherlock shook it. No, he would go through this. He could get through this. Only with Molly. Molly would be his exception. Things would get less overwhelming. He was stronger, smarter than those people who did such ridiculous things for _love_. He was Sherlock Holmes. He could deal with anything.

"Sherlock? You okay?"

Sherlock looked up. "Yeah, fine..." He smiled. "Just fine."

He pulled her back to him and continued with his experiment.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later there were two very frustrated, very unsatisfied individuals struggling to get off each other and untangle their limbs so the other could go make the tea one of them had so strongly suggested when he'd decided they had done enough "experimenting."

Even though Sherlock's ribs ached he'd somehow ended up kissing Molly into the couch, pinning her wrists to the armrest and with her legs wrapped securely around his waste. After his suggestion he'd make some tea, they'd struggled to get back into the position they'd started in with Molly straddling his lap. This wasn't a very good idea though as it was setting them both up for more frustration.

Molly bit her lip. "Are you sure you don't want me to... you know..."

"What?"

_Oh god, he was going to make her say it._

"Help you with that," she pointed vaguely downwards.

"I thought we agreed to go slow."

"We don't have to do it... I could... you know."

"I'll meditate it away."

Molly's face fell. Great. He would meditate it away and she would attempt to make tea in her state of arousal and maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't burn herself with the hot water as she tried to get her it down to manageable levels. It was, after all, almost never zero when Sherlock was around.

"Yes, good. Well, I'll just go calm myself by making some tea..." Molly sighed. "Like that will work," she whispered to herself as she got off him and walked away.

"Sarcasm?" Sherlock asked, his head tilted slightly to the side like a confused puppy.

"What?" Molly turned back around.

"Did you just employ sarcasm?"

Molly didn't know what the hell he was talking about. "Yeah... sure." Now Molly knew she was employing sarcasm but he didn't seem to catch it.

"I would not be opposed helping you. You have obviously never practiced meditation. I do not wish for you to fill frustrated."

"Um, no. It's okay, I'll manage."

"But-"

"It's just weird okay. If it was a mutual thing, it's different."

"I don't see how-"

"Look you don't want to, I'm not interrogating you as to the reason why. I don't want to. Let's just leave it at that."

Sherlock gave her a confused look, but then his eyes widened as an idea popped into his head. And then he looked away as he realized what this idea entailed admitting.

"I don't- I don't like it. Not really, but I... I want to, but I often..." Sherlock started to lock and interlock his fingers. "I prefer meditation." He concluded even though it was not at all what he had been thinking.

Molly walked back to him and sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

"What is it you don't like? Can you tell me? Eventually we're going to have to talk about it. You said we'd build up to sex, and you bought me a pack of condoms, so..."

"Yours had expired."

Molly gave him a stern look. He wasn't getting out of the conversation so easily.

Sherlock did not answer for a long moment. He kept his gaze on his knee where he fidgeted with his fingers.

"I'm afraid..." he whispered so softly for a second Molly thought she'd imagined it.

"Of what?

"You seeing me like that, loosing control...I- I don't know..."

"It's quite scary, which is usually why I prefer if the action is mutual... but Sherlock, just know that you can trust me okay? I want you to know nothing will change how I feel." Molly took his hand in hers. "I'll wait until you're ready. We'll take this slow. We'll deal with the _frustration_ afterwards as best as we can and by our preferred methods. And when you're ready just know I won't laugh at you, or judge you, or anything."

"Is that also why you won't let me _help_ you?"

"Sort of. I just would have found it weird if you hadn't let me reciprocate."

"Will you consider it?" Sherlock rubbed her wrist. "I would be much more open to the idea if you went first."

"I'll think about it. I lied earlier. The frustration will get to me eventually."

And with that she gave him a quick peck on the lips and went to put the kettle on.

Sure enough she burned herself with the boiling water. Their conversation had calmed her down but now her brain just wouldn't stop flashing bits and pieces of those incredibly well spent 15 minutes like a broken movie reel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fixed a previous chapter where I had mentioned whips. I knew that wasn't what it was called but I couldn't think of the word. It was a riding crop or just crop, but anyways, fixed.
> 
> Anyways only Sherlock would buy condoms (just to replace someone's expired ones) without the intention to have sex with them any time soon.
> 
> Anyways. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW I wants reviews. Or this isn't worth writing.


	8. In the Dark It Didn't Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> Sorry personal life got really really crazy. I can't guarantee any updates or anything soon. If I get like ten reviews / tumblr follows or something I'll reconsider.
> 
> Note: I got a tumblr just for my fanfic stuff, in case you missed my last edit. It's infinitemonkeyswriting . tumblr . com I'll submit all my stories their too, but also I'll reblog any art and the occasional fic. I'll also open up requests for one-shots but again, I can't guarantee anything.

They had finished their tea and changed into their pajamas. Molly had tried to bring up the subject they were supposed to talk about while they drank tea, but Sherlock hadn't been able to get anything out.

"I- I can't" he'd said and left to get ready for bed.

Disappointed, Molly had gone to go get ready for bed herself. She'd just put on her pajamas when there was a soft knock on her door.

"Can I... Can I sleep with you?"

"What?! I thought-"

Sherlock had opened the door. "That's not what I meant."

Molly had made a move to cover herself up. "What if I had been naked?"

"You aren't."

Molly had sighed. "Fine, fine. Do whatever you want. I'm not even going to ask."

* * *

And now they stood in front of the bed, neither sure what to really do.

"So..." started Molly. "What side of the bed do you sleep on?"

"What side do you sleep on? It's your bed."

Molly blushed. "All... Any?"

"I sleep on my right."

"I'll try to keep to the left than." Molly slipped past him to the other side and got beneath the covers.

"Can I turn off the lights?"

"Um, yeah, sure."

Molly heard him almost trip on something in the pitch black room and stiffled a laugh.

Sherlock slipped into bed beside her. She felt the sheets rustle and than a hand tentatively touching her back. Molly bit her lip. It had all better not be a dream. Sherlock slipped his arm completely around her and pulled her to him. She could feel his ribcage expand and contract as he breathed. Nope, not a dream.

"Molly..." he whispered in a deep voice against her neck. It tickled. "I promised to tell you, but only like this. I couldn't back... there..."

Definitely not a dream...

"Do you remember the first part of the story?" Sherlock prompted.

"Yes." All too well, thought Molly as the memory replayed in her head.

_"I wanted to be a pirate. Mummy bought me a sailboat and- a hat, and everything, and dressed me up. I had a sword and I had a bed in the shape of a boat. I used to run around being a pirate, and then one day... I annoyed Mycroft too much. We always played games, wars. Got each other's toys and hid them or fed them to the dogs, but some toys we silently agreed were off limit, but that day... He stole them and he made me think he'd burn them. I discovered later he didn't but I threw a tantrum and Mummy couldn't calm him and Father got annoyed, and- Molly please! I can't, I can't."_

"Mummy defended me... And then from that point on all my parents did was fight. And one day... I caught father cheating on her. Mycroft... didn't want me to tell. I told Mummy anyways. I thought she would be glad, but she just got angry. She knew, she'd just been in denial. She never talked to me much again. I thought she'd divorce him but she didn't. I'd learned to keep away from everyone. I didn't say a word to Mycroft for years. I stopped wanting to be a pirate. I got interested in criminals and private detectives. I came home with bruises. Apparently now my interests were too grown up. It bothered everyone more than when they were simply childish. I went to Mummy the first time. She used to help. But she only told me 'You know were the first aid kit is.' Everything continued as it was... until years later, because it was years, when I discovered Mycroft hadn't really burned my things. I got... So ANGRY," Sherlock growled in her ear, his grip around her tightening. "It was that day all over again... We fought... And then I ran away. And then... first I started with the cigarettes, but that wasn't enough. I went for the strongest drugs I could find... you know my favorites. I lived on the streets for some time. Until the urge to solve cases got to big. The drugs could never make it go away. I got a case, Mrs. Hudson's, rented Baker St., got myself clean, and then... well you know the rest."

Molly stroked his arm softly.

"Molly," Sherlock's voice cracked. "I'm such an idiot... I feel so stupid... everything that's happened because of something so silly."

Molly turned over to find nothing. The room was pitch black. She stretched out her hand to where she thought he would be and caressed his cheek, feeling the tears streamsilently down his face.

"Sshhh... You're not an idiot." Molly placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, staining her lips with his salty tears. "It was important enough to upset you, it could never be silly. You wouldn't be who you are if any of that hadn't happened. You wouldn't have met John. You wouldn't have met me." Molly kissed his lips lightly.

Sherlock released a shaky breath against her than latched on to her lips again, deepening the kiss. He stroked her side, slipping his hand under her shirt to caress the skin underneath. Then he pulled at her pajamas and attempted to unbutton them with almost only one hand.

Molly took a hold of his wrist and stopped him.

"Sherlock. I don't think-"

Sherlock froze. "No, of course not." His hands retreated. "Goodnight."

And he turned over, pulling the covers over his shoulders.

Molly fidgeted for a moment. She didn't want him to retreat completely.

She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him.

"I know you can't say it. Might not ever be able to say it back. But... I love you. I still love you. If that helps any." And then she buried her face against his neck and they fell asleep.

* * *

Molly woke up to find she'd hogged the whole bed and Sherlock was sleeping on the edge of the mattress. She paused for a second to admire his face. He was facing up, his hand interlaced on his chest in much the manner they were when he was thinking, but his face looked calm. She almost wanted to say happy.

She looked at her alarm clock. It was still quite early, not that she had anything to do.

She grabbed on to Sherlock's arm, the one farthest from him and pulled him closer.

She hadn't expected to startle him. He looked too asleep for that, but boy did he startle. He leapt and turned to face her, he crouched ready to attack.

"Molly?"

"I- Sorry, I was just. You were about to fall off the bed." She blushed.

"Oh." Sherlock relaxed back into the mattress. "I've never slept by someone before," he admitted, his voice cold and distant.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," and then he stood up and marched off to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"To think. I slept far too long already."

"It's only 8! I thought we'd... you know..."

"No, I don't Molly. I wish you'd be more precise."

"What the hell has gotten into you?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

Molly sat up, slipped on her slippers and walked over to him.

"Was it... what I said last night?"

A brief flash of sadness crossed his face, and then nothing.

"I would appreciate if you never bring up last night again," Sherlock slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

"What?! Does this mean you're done with your/our _experiment?"_

"What?" Sherlock pocked his head back out. "No, of course not."

"Okay..."

Sherlock retreated into the bathroom again.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, perfectly normal." He reassured her through the door, but again Molly thought he sounded a bit distant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Replies (on ff.net):
> 
> LaserGirl77: Was he really that out of character? He's hard to pin down but I'm writing him as best as possible. Also, this is an M rated, Sherlolly Hurt/Comfort/Romance fic (and angst if I could add it), do you really expect great characterization? And he was just on drugs and quitting them. Than add in the fact that we know almost nothing about Sherlock's childhood, but it's something that can affect a person deeply, and yet many are able to hide their traumas for years. Keep in mind in the show we know him for very little time. Also in the last part as you can see he's more back to normal.
> 
> It might also help to know I try to write him as having Aspergers. I read an article about ACD probably basing Sherlock on somebody with Aspergers and it was really interesting. But just like in the book and the show it's not conclusive in my fic either. Just take hints here and there from the list of symptoms/experiences. They can be highly sensitive people with certain things.
> 
> 243TypesofTobaccoAsh: Glad you still like it. And it is hard to tell what is in character and what isn't. I'm not sure about a relapse, this was the relapse, but it's going to get really fluffy (the rated M part) and then really dark and angsty (but towards the end more) because I hate the first time being because one of the character's is all emotional and the other offers "comfort", which is why they stopped in this chapter.
> 
> NEW AUTHOR'S NOTE:I'm so so sorry I haven't been able to continue this story as planned. I WILL continue it, I just don't know when. My personal life is a bit of a mess. The good thing is I have many ideas for the story.


	9. Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry. Life is still a total mess. I had planned on finishing this fic quickly, but my plans were thrown out the window. Also I haven't really been interested in doing much, but urge came back a bit so I made some time to write this chapter. I know the end is a tease but originally it was only the John part. The next part takes some time so I just wanted to get SOMETHING published. Also formatting might be messy, I'm on a mobile device. Also why Im not replying tomany comments. It's a pain. And I didn't edit much. Sorry if this is going downhill in terms of editing quality. A beta would be useful but I'm not sure how they work...

He was distant all day. They watched a movie and snuggled, but nothing more. Molly appreciated his presence and soon forgot about the movie. She could feel his heart beating slowly against her back. Hi warm heat seeped into her. She'd never imagined he'd be this warm and cozy. Everything she knew about him had indicated otherwise.

One of his arms curled tightly around her. His fingers were clenched slightly around the fabric of her shirt. She found herself becoming lost in his calm presence and soon, she was asleep.

Sherlock noticed and turned off the tv. He untangled himself from her and carried her to her bed. He left a short note and left the flat.

"221B Baker St," he told the cab.

He entered silently. heard him though. It was like she had been waiting for him. He shushed her and went up the stairs. He hesitated for a moment and then opened the door. He walked in like nothing had happened.

John was sitting, reading in his chair. He stood up immediately.

"Sherlock, you're back. What happened? Where the bloody hell have you been? Well, you were at Molly's, but why the hell couldn't I see you? Why were you even there?" He threw the newspaper onto the coffee table.

"It's none of your business."

"None of my business?" John's nostrils flared. "None of my business? Your brother was worried sick-"

Sherlock scoffed.

John clenched his fist and stood straighter. "You relapsed," he stated in a flat voice that contradicted everything else.

"Yes," Sherlock admitted and started walking towards his room. "I am clean now. No need to worry about another drugs bust."

John grabbed his arm before he could walk away. His eyebrows slanted inward, and the corners of his lips faltered for a second before settling for a frown. "I'm not worried about another drugs bust. I'm worried about you."

"I'm... fine. I'll be fine, John. Now if you'll excuse me. I'd like to get my violin."

"You're leaving?" John loosened his grip.

"Molly did take the week off for me."

"Molly... What's this business with Molly anyways?"

"Business?" Sherlock chuckled. "I wouldn't call it business."

Sherlock disappeared into his room and came out with a violin case and a small backpack.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock had almost reached the door.

"Sherlock," John said more sternly. "You need to explain."

"Explain what? I relapsed. I didn't want to stay here. Memories, you know. I'll be back soon."

"Oh." John knew he was lying, but said nothing else. It was obvious Sherlock wasn't going to confide in him. Molly it was then. "Don't take advantage of her," John warned him as he left.

Sherlock closed the door behind him and smirked. That hadn't been as bad as he thought.

"So how did it go?"

"Great."

"...What did he say?" Molly gripped his arm.

"Nothing important?"

"Did you tell him about us?"

"Not exactly."

"Am I going to have to make you repeat the conversation word by word?"

"He was confused and then I believe I confused him further by alluding to our relationship."

She smiled at his use of the word. "Fine, you've lucked out. I have some paperwork to fill out. I took the week off but apperantly people didn't stop dying and there was no one else to do this."

"I wanted..."

"What?"

"Playing the violin... produced a variety of interesting ideas to... experiment on."

Molly could almost see him blushing.

"Come here."

Sherlock did. Molly pulled him down to her level on the coach and kissed him raw for a moment, then just as quickly let him go. He looked tousled and confused.

"I'm busy now, go play some more, it's calming. Some Bach would be nice."

Sherlock pouted but proceeded to play a few songs for her. Five songs later he stopped.

Molly was too absorbed in her work to notice him walking towards her with a wicked grin. He climbed over the back of the coach and crouched behind her.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her eyes still intent on all the paperwork splayed across the coffee table.

"I had another brilliant idea." He sat behind her, with her body between his legs.

Molly groaned. "Is it solved-a-case brilliant or microwave-eyeballs brilliant?"

"Better." His voice dropped a few octaves.

"I have work."

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder.

"I'm going to seduce you..." He whispered in her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me. I swear I'll finish it eventually. As for any requests people have made on my tumblr (same username) I will also get to those soon.


	10. The Part You've All Been Waiting For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, my life just never seems to settle down. Short chapter but:
> 
> Warning: Might induce some to throw off their pants or otherwise render them unusable (there is a slight possibility they may catch fire). Proceed with cation. Do not read while driving.

Sherlock slipped his hand through the space between the buttons on her shirt and cupped her breast through her bra. Molly gasped. The papers she had in her hand fluttered down onto the table.

"I was thinking about trying this earlier but you needed to work and it wouldn't have been fair experiment if it wasn't a surprise. You've finished, you're just checking everything is right. I'm sure someone else can weed out your grammatical mistakes." He explained between kisses, his voice dropping impossibly lower with every word.

"Fuck," Molly groaned and gripped his leg beside her.

"Mmm? Didn't take you for one to curse. I'll have to take note. What else might I get out of you."

"Oh god, I really should..."

Sherlock slipped his other hand past the waistband on her trousers and rubbed against the fabric underneath, teasing.

"Has it worked?"

Molly shook her head in denial.

Sherlock took her earlobe in his mouth and sucked at it then licked around the shell of her ear.

Molly whimpered.

"And now?"

She shook her head.

Sherlock slipped one hand past her bra and squeezed lightly. He slipped his other hand away from her pants to unbutton her shirt. He felt the vast expanse of her stomach and pressed her closer so she could feel his erection. The touch lasted but a second, then his hand retreated. He licked his thumb and brought it back, swirling the wet diget around her belly button.

"Mmm, please..."

"Is that a yes?" He asked, licking and nipping at her neck.

"Yes, yes, yes..."

He lowered his hand again, lower this time. His long dexterous fingers stroked at her lips before diving briefly to caress her clit. Molly bucked, almost falling off the edge of the coach. Sherlock moved back and dragged her to him.

His fingers continued their slow tease. Molly's grip grew tighter on one of his knees.

"You're so wet. I didn't expect-" he trailed off. His breaths grew ragged nest to her ear and it aroused her all the more.

"Can I taste you?" He asked licking at the dark purple spots he'd left along her neck. "Please."

"If you... keep saying... such dirty things... Ahh, fuck, I'm so close."

Sherlock slowed down. "Can you have multiple orgasms?" His voice suddenly changed, high and inquisitive instead of low and sexy.

"What?! No, I... can't, too... sensitive."

Sherlock stopped and slipped his hand from her trousers.

Molly almost screamed with disappointment. "Wait, what are you doing? Don't stop. You can't leave me hanging."

Sherlock maneuvered himself off the coach than promptly got on his knees in front of her. He parted her knees. "I said, 'I want to taste you'."

She saw the lust in his eyes, the pure unadulterated want and she knew she'd forgiven him. His pupils were blown wide, his hair was a mess. He even licked his lips. She bit her lip. She wanted to snap a picture and take some art classes so she could paint him and preserve the look on his face forever.

But he snapped her out of it by unbuttoning her trousers and slipping them off. He tugged her knees over his shoulders and settled his face just inches away from her. In fact, she could feel his breath against her skin down there. Rough, but stead and warm as it fanned over her. He hooked his fingers around her knickers and pulled those of too.

He paused and gave her one last look as if asking if she was really sure. Molly pulled his head closer in response and his lips kissed her there. They opened and his tongue darted out to taste her. It was just like a kiss, except... Not.

Molly raked her fingers through his hair and he practically growled in response. His technique suddenly changed. There was no more teasing. He lapped at her juices for a moment, tasting the thick salty liquid like a starving man. He swiped the tip of his tongue roughly across her clit before sucking on it slowly.

Molly looked down. She couldn't believe it. Sherlock Holmes on his knees, his head between her legs. She felt a spark of warmth flood her as she took in the site of him.

"Ahh...mmm... So close... Sherlock... Sherlock-"

He nipped at it gently and she was over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I didn't even bother with a chapter name okay?. I always hate it when I want to go back to favorite parts in fics and it's like "Which fucking chapter was it!" I was almost going to make a Monty Python joke and name it "The Oral Sex".
> 
> Anyways, hope you all liked the smut and some pants caught fire. You guys do know I'm a guy, right? ...without much experience, so yeah... the above just shows you the obvious signs of reading way too many smutty fanfics. I seriously don't know why there aren't more guys around, or maybe it's just me and I'm weird. I'd rather read than watch.
> 
> Review please and I'll try to post faster.


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